


Heathens

by Viridian5



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Intervention, M/M, Post-Canon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 18:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18531118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: The life you save may be your own.





	Heathens

**Author's Note:**

> This took a long time to finish, so thanks to Akira 17, Bardsley, and Graegal for reading parts of it for me in different stages. If you’re curious, the shirt I describe on Schuldig has [this image](https://www.bing.com/images/search?view=detailV2&ccid=QY3Wsmup&id=BE23AA2835EC464812EDAC150D83DEA7AF21A93C&thid=OIP.QY3WsmupfAv2bvUGLexXlwAAAA&mediaurl=http%3a%2f%2fblowthescene.com%2ffiles%2f2011%2f08%2fKMFDM-WTF.jpg&exph=450&expw=450&q=kmfdm+wtf&simid=607986584135470511&selectedIndex=0) on it.

As he waited for Schuldig’s work to start, Nagi felt very out of place in the midst of these people, this audience, made up mostly of rich criminal overlords and the people who were employed by them and/or fawned over them. He had more in common with the mercenaries in the crowd but not enough to start any conversations. It might have been different in Japan, but he didn’t know as much about or have alliances with the underworld’s power players in Zurich, Switzerland. Though he appreciated having a respite from Kritiker’s bullshit, he resented having to come here. Why couldn’t Schuldig have accepted a job somewhere else?

Not that Nagi truly “had” to be here. He could’ve stayed home and ignored Crawford’s worries about Schuldig. Let Crawford be the one to fly to Zurich to rescue Schuldig from whatever he’d gotten himself into. Nagi hadn’t even seen Schuldig in person in years.

This job was unusual by what Nagi thought were Schuldig’s standards: demonstrating an arms dealer’s weapons in battle conditions for audiences of potential buyers. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t doing it under his own name. Supposedly he’d been working this job for about three months. 

Schuldig would fight in a kind of arena, with the recessed pit where the action would happen separated from the spectators half a floor above it by a thick layer of one-way safety glass. Viewers could watch through that, though Nagi also saw TV monitors scattered around that might also show some of the fight in close-ups. There were already thirteen men with guns in the ring, some of them pounding on the glass even though shooting it had failed, all of them looking for a way out, none of them seemingly able to see the audience slightly above them. 

“All right, everyone. It’s about to go down!” the apparent master of ceremonies said in English into his microphone. His suit suggested him to be a man of a lot of money and little taste. Perfect for Schuldig then. “Our guests down there are a rival group who snooped in the wrong places today. My man will face all of them at once while wielding two of my company’s electroshock batons. I’ve never had him fight this many people at once. I told him we need to keep at least one of them alive so he can go back to tell his boss what happened, but otherwise he has free rein. Even I’m not sure exactly what he’ll do or how much punishment he’s about to dole out. This should be exciting!”

Looking around at the audience, Nagi realized that some of these people were Schuldig’s _fans_. Just from his tenure on this job? All of them seemed excited about the violence to come. 

“Here we go! Start watching!”

In the pit, a door opened, showing a grinning Schuldig with a baton in each hand. Grinning harder, he brandished the batons with a dramatic sweeping gesture and made them throw off loud and obvious sparks at the tips, like revving his motor and making a threat display all at once, theatrical as ever and playing to an audience. 

He was wearing a neon green leather jacket, showing that his taste hadn’t improved any over the years. 

His opponents all opened fire on that position, but Schuldig had already moved. _Into_ the crowd of his attackers, using his speed and agility to weave himself between them and strike with the batons, while the proximity of their own people gave them fewer options on fighting back. Guns would be dangerous to use at this range, and Schuldig had no qualms about using any of these men as human shields. His opponents became somewhat sloppier as they became angrier and ever more frustrated, but that also made them even keener to kill him. Schuldig’s neon green jacket and bright hair made him stand out from his attackers, easier for the audience but also for the goons to keep an eye on.

Although he could dismantle Schuldig at a molecular level, Nagi had never been able to help being envious of Schuldig’s easy physicality, his grace, speed, strength, and seeming effortlessness, the way he could float like a butterfly and sting like a bee. Crawford had gotten heavier and slowed down a bit at his age, but Schuldig looked as vibrant, slender, and lithe as ever, though Crawford’s current broken leg certainly didn’t help his physical condition. Crawford’s hair had gone silver years ago but Schuldig’s still had the vivid colors of a bonfire, though that might be dye. Apparently, Schuldig still liked his longish, since it went down to a bit below shoulder-length. While Nagi couldn’t imagine him with short hair, Schuldig had told him that Rosenkreuz staff would occasionally shave his head as punishment, which usually backfired on them. 

Schuldig currently fought a bit slower than Nagi was accustomed to seeing from him, but he quickly realized that Schuldig was holding back deliberately and barely breaking a sweat and that he’d slowed down so the audience could see and appreciate his moves and the way the batons worked. If he just sped through the fight or finessed his way through it with his high-level fighting skills it wouldn’t be much of a demonstration of the product. 

Schuldig had to be in his element here as he did two of his favorite things: hurting people and being the center of attention for an admiring audience. 

The MC did his product spiel throughout. “The batons come in varying weights, some of them very light. Schuldig is just so extra that he enjoys beating the shit out of his opponents with the batons as well as delivering electric shocks with them so he likes his heavier. Then again, when facing a crowd of opponents, it might be reassuring to club them down as well as tase them to make sure they stay down. One baton can work very well in most situations but, once again, he is very extra. The voltage can be adjusted as you go with a toggle that’s very difficult to shift by accident. Each baton has a strap you can put around your wrist so it’s harder for an opponent to knock it out of your hand. Schuldig most often uses belt holsters but my company also offers thigh holsters. Some people find the thigh holsters _very_ sexy.” He seemed to be trying to do some kind of low-rent Tony Stark impression.

~Nagi, I’m surprised you’re here! You could’ve told me you were coming to town,~ Schuldig said telepathically, still able to fight for his life against a small crowd, sense Nagi, and have a conversation simultaneously. 

~I just got here. Can we talk after you’re finished here?~ Nagi replied.

~Sure. I’m interested. I just have to finish dismantling these guys, then schmooze with the audience for a while afterward. Easy peasy. For your information, I stopped wearing the thigh holsters for these things because some potential buyers found them too sexy to resist and not even I want to fend off gropers _all_ the time.~

“This kind of fighting could be called ‘blitzkrieg,’ which, for those of you who don’t speak German, means ‘lightning war.’”

~Condescending American idiot,~ Schuldig said. ~We’re near Germany and tons of people in this country speak German. If he weren’t so rich and well-armed he’d never get away with being so corny. If I did a real lightning war round, it wouldn’t take much time and wouldn’t be much of a show.~

Schuldig had taken down a lot of his opponents--which meant fewer threats but also deprived him of the meat shield option--and already taken away some of the guns from the people still standing. While he sized them up with a manic grin and a twirl of his batons, they glared murderously back at him. Five on one. The fact that they’d survived his initial onslaught might mean they were more skilled than the others. 

“Not all of you have to die,” Schuldig told his opponents in English. “The golden ticket to continued living could still be yours.”

One of them answered in a derogatory tone in what seemed to be French, a language Nagi didn’t know. Whatever Schuldig had said back in French must’ve really been something special because some members of the audience chuckled and the man reacted by rushing at him in a rage. Trolling successful. Schuldig had told Nagi once that he knew several European, including eastern European, languages because the Elders hadn’t originally intended him to serve in Japan. When Nagi had asked if Crawford had something to do with the change, Schuldig had shrugged and answered that the Elders didn’t explain their decisions to peons like him. 

Schuldig took out the French guy and three of the others, leaving only this one confident, smiling big guy who had this weird kind of... strength, energy, something. It made Nagi--and apparently Schuldig--feel cautious. While Schuldig hit him with the electrified batons a few times, raising the voltage each time, the guy just shrugged them off and hit back at him with giant fists, some of which grazed Schuldig even despite his speed dodging and “dancing” around. Schuldig compensated by repeatedly hitting the man hard in the same spots over and over with the weighted batons, which apparently still hurt. 

“This may be another enhanced specimen,” the MC said, sounding annoyed. Another? 

Would Schuldig really let himself be seriously injured out of an unwillingness to show all of his skills and strengths to these normals? Out of respect and assholery, Nagi refused to lend any help unless Schuldig asked him. 

The man succeeded in grabbing Schuldig’s left arm, grinning at Schuldig’s cry of pain, and yanked him in closer. Except that Schuldig was obviously moving toward him much faster than he should be and walloped him in the mouth with a baton so hard that some of his teeth went flying. He cried out in pain and let go of him, but Schuldig was still moving at him, shoved a baton into his opened mouth, angled it up into the roof of his mouth, and triggered it to go off at its highest voltage. The man screamed and dropped like a stone, to the audience’s applause. Schuldig kicked the corpse in the head a few times; as a telepath, he’d know if the guy was dead or shamming.

~Are you not entertained?~ Schuldig asked, his feral grin visible on a nearby monitor as he wiped his baton clean on the corpse’s clothes. Nagi mentally flashed him a thumbs up emoji in response.

“So, he was enhanced?” the MC asked.

“Ya _think_?!” Schuldig answered.

“I’ll have my medics check out the corpse. It’s a shame you did so much damage to it.”

“I nuked him to make sure he wouldn’t keep coming at me. Live with it. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” On his way out of the arena, Schuldig kicked one slowly reviving man in the head, hard, to knock him back out.

~Have you been facing a lot of enhanced people here?~ Nagi asked. He hadn’t been seeing anything like that in Japan.

~Not a lot, but enough to make one wonder. A lot of them are difficult to mindread or just don’t know enough, but I’ve been getting a strong impression that the doctors who worked on them were Austrian.~

~Is Eszett making some kind of comeback?~

~No idea.~

Something to look into. 

~Are you gonna stick around for the schmoozing, Nagi? It can take a while.~

~About how long?~

~Half an hour to an hour. If rich, potentially paying customers feel like talking a lot, I’m heavily encouraged to indulge them, of course.~

While Schuldig knew Nagi didn’t have much patience for such things if _he_ weren’t getting paid for it.  ~I’ll stick around a little bit to get an idea of what you do here and who you talk to, but I’m not lasting a half hour to an hour. You can meet me later at my hotel room.~  Nagi sent the address and images of his hotel and his room number, and that he was there under his own name, telepathically. 

When Schuldig arrived to speak to the potential customers, he looked even better in person than he had on the monitors, which he usually did if he weren’t deliberately trying to escape notice or be underestimated. Nagi would attribute it to a telepathic trick if he hadn’t met so many people who got the same reaction without psychic powers: charisma could be a dangerous thing. For Schuldig, it might be a combination of both.

~Schuldig, do you telepathically influence the potential customers into buying things?~

~No. One, he doesn’t pay me well enough. Two, that would be a hell of a lot of people over three months and it’d start to look suspicious. Three, he doesn’t know I can, because he’s not in the know enough to be aware that I’m a telepath.~

Only a select clientele knew about Schuldig’s psychic ability, something Schuldig and sometimes Crawford could get away with. Nagi’s was too physical and instinctive to hide, and besides, he didn’t want to. But he understood why Schuldig might, since he’d seen people demand all kinds of ridiculous and outrageous things from him if they knew, especially if they were rich, entitled, and spoiled.

Schuldig walked straight up to a well-dressed older woman, saying, “Milady, if I’d known you were coming, I would’ve worn tighter trousers so you’d get more of a show.”

She seemed taken with Schuldig--she certainly, shamelessly, took a good look at his goods--but Nagi wondered if she’d be so keen on Schuldig if she knew he wasn’t actually as young as he looked and wasn’t much younger than she was; some cougars demanded an age and experience difference in their boy toys. 

~Me _ow_ , Nagi. You brute, isn’t it possible that she’s attracted to me for _me_ , and not the thought that I’m probably only a few years older than her firstborn son?~

Smiling, the woman answered, “I know you have one foot out the door so I have to see you while I still can. You know, my job offer still stands.”

“And it’s much appreciated but I have other things I have to get done first. Besides, if I do the same thing too long it starts to get stale, and you deserve better.”

~I can’t stand to listen to any more of this so I’m out of here, Schuldig. Catch up with me in my hotel room when you’re done.~

Schuldig directed a “yeah, yeah” wave in Nagi’s direction as a reply. 

  


* * *

In the unusual position of not having anything to do, Nagi felt jittery in his hotel room and had to keep stopping his mind from wandering onto things he really didn’t want to think about, so he ended up turning on the TV as noise to zone out to, only half paying attention to the seemingly wacky hijinks of whatever this show was. To his annoyance, he jumped a little when Schuldig said, ~I’m coming up to see you. Meet me at your door in about ten minutes. I’ll knock.~ A needed heads-up since Schuldig had scaled buildings and come in through windows sometimes in the past, while the façade of Nagi’s hotel had a lot of potential handholds.

When Nagi opened the door, he said, “Show some manners and take your boots off before you come into my room.”

“We’re in Switzerland, so live a little. Wear your shoes inside.” But Schuldig took his boots off as asked, and Nagi noticed that he’d changed his footwear to something easier to slip off before coming to see him after wearing tall boots with laces in his arena fight. As he came inside and closed the door, he asked, “Language preference?”

Nagi didn’t want to think about Japan right now. “Let’s continue in English.”

“Sure. You know, you look kind of like a mini Crawford. Except that you’re shorter, your hair is more boring, and your suit fits closer. He’s not a fan of the current vogue in suit design and prefers to go a bit boxy for the jacket because he feels it works better with his gun rig. You don’t wear glasses either, of course.”

“So aside from all those many things, I look exactly like Crawford.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Sadly, I actually do.”

“Speaking of, seeing you dressed as a high-priced version of a salaryman makes me sad. You looked damned good when we went against Epitaph.”

“People didn’t take me seriously professionally when I looked like that.”

“You can turn people inside out with your _mind_ , so fuck ’em. If they had any sense, they’d respect you. Maybe you just needed to make an example of someone once in a while. Dressing how _you_ want is a power move. Also, you’re so pretty that you trying to efface yourself is a crime.”

“You’re not helping yourself here.”

Schuldig wore slim-fit black jeans, the neon green leather jacket, and a KMFDM T-shirt, though a newer one, with the band name, “WTF?!,” and an image of a woman in a very low-cut top with a lit stick of dynamite in her cleavage done in a yellowy green on it. Schuldig liked the band and the artist who did their cover images, so he’d always worn a few of their shirts now and then. 

So Schuldig, slightly updated. He was a vivid, incongruous blaze of colors, as usual, amidst the tasteful neutrals of Nagi’s hotel room.

“How’s your arm?” Nagi asked.

“Not as bad as you might think. My jacket’s sleeves are padded. The back of it has a panel of light body armor inside. I tell the boss’ mooks to keep the temperature fairly low in the arena so I can wear some protective gear, not that they know the reason.”

Schuldig had told him that if you give people room to make assumptions, they’ll lie to themselves for you. 

Also, always cheat.

Choosing the most comfortable looking chair in the room, Schuldig sat down, cross-legged with his feet tucked beneath his thighs, and said, “Out with it. I know I’m pretty but your staring is excessive. What’s going on with you?”

Nagi might as well be honest. Sitting across from him, Nagi replied, “I’m 36 while you’re 43, but you look younger than I do.”

Grinning, Schuldig said, “Senpai! I put myself in your hands, take care of me!”

“Oh _fuck_ , no.”

“You have to admit that even in your teens you were already an old man on the inside, which makes this turn of events less surprising.” 

“There’s a big difference between acting mature and being an ‘old man,’ though I probably shouldn’t be surprised that you can’t see it.”

“ _Such_ sour grapes. You certainly complain like an old man. Another way you’re like Crawford.”

“How does he put up with you?”

“I put out.” 

“Ugh.”

“I’m not _sure_ about it but I have a theory for why I look so good,” Schuldig said, “though I sincerely doubt you’ll believe it.”

“It’s your own fault for being such an accomplished liar, and you don’t do anything sincerely, but go ahead and try me.”

“I was about 17 and in Rosenkreuz. For some reason I’d pissed off one of the higher-ups more than usual so he beat the shit out of me, stuck me in solitary confinement in a dark, dank pit underground, and blocked off my telepathy so I _really_ felt alone. While there, I couldn’t tell how long I’d spent in that hole without any lighting cues. Altogether, I might’ve been going a little crazy. Having what turned out to be a mild concussion didn’t help. I was propped up against a slimy wall--all the walls and the floor were slimy--and thought to myself that I wouldn’t let these assholes end me and I’d get free, no matter what I had to do. At some point, someone answered me, interested.”

“Someone? That’s vague.”

“It wasn’t a human being, and it wasn’t the Elders’ patron either.” 

“So who the hell was it then?”

“He told me I was one of his and that he’d enjoyed my lying and cheating and trickery. Would I be willing to amp them up more--while trying to be cleverer about it--in exchange for more strength? My answer was basically ‘duh,’ I’d take any edge I could get, especially if I got it in exchange for things I’d do anyway. And that’s how I forged a connection to Loki, god of lies, mischief, tricks, and stories.”

“Really.” Did Schuldig expect him to believe that?

“I told you that you wouldn’t believe it. I think my ongoing youth is due to my deal, though I didn’t even ask him for ongoing youth because, between being one of Eszett’s pawns and the speed of my everything being so much faster that everyone figured I’d age and burn out faster too, I hadn’t been sure I’d even live to see my 20s and get a chance to get old. It sure as hell isn’t from clean living, since I figured I’d have to get a lot of living done in a limited time. I’m not even facing the neurological issues a lot of telepaths of my age and power level get, while Brad is on some meds due to him being a middle-aged seer.” 

“I didn’t know.”

“Crawdad wouldn’t tell you.” 

“Of course.”

“Though I still have to use painkillers now and then because apparently even gods can’t totally stop telepathy-related headaches. Or he just doesn’t want to, who knows. Otherwise, I don’t have to pop more pills like Brad does.” Schuldig did a bit of a restless pretzel move in his chair, showing off his flexibility. “Maybe I’m flourishing because it’s a wonderful time to be alive if you’re Loki or a telepath who gets a positive neurochemical lift from feeling other people’s torment. I mean, lately you have so much chaos, crises, confusion, and conspiracies. Things have always sucked somewhere, but they seem to suck everywhere lately and the 24/7 news cycle and push notifications on phones let more people be aware of it more often. Fuck, I love what push notifications do to people, you know? But lately, everything is true and untrue. Nativism rising everywhere, so many refugees trying to find new homes and lives in increasingly hostile foreign countries, so many wars even if they’re not all called wars, despots becoming bolder, Earth’s environment itself becoming more volatile, polarized populations having no common ground within their own countries, so many people becoming paranoid, the possibility of nuclear war, old alliances crumbling, and one of the world’s superpowers being led by a gaslighting, tantrum-prone troll with an itchy Twitter finger, all of these things are great conditions for us. Hell, I told Brad I couldn’t go to the US with him because I’d spend most of the time drunk off my ass from the shit going down there.”

Crawford and Schuldig had one of their amicable separations going on, with each of them sometimes taking on other lovers temporarily, Schuldig in particular. When Nagi had told Schuldig that he didn’t understand how their relationship worked, Schuldig had answered that their times apart now and then were what _made_ it work because “He wouldn’t know he should miss me if I’m always there.” Also, that Crawford saw a great moneymaking opportunity in the contemporary U.S. for someone who could see any of the future in advance and that Crawford should experience some of the tenure of the final president of the United States. That last bit had made Nagi ask if Crawford had foreseen something, to which Schuldig had replied, “If it will happen, so far it’s not soon enough for Brad to see it.”

“You’ll be far less enthused if a nuclear war breaks out,” Nagi replied. “Even with your body at a physical distance, a megadeath event would kill you.”

“But I’d die happy.”

“I don’t believe you about Loki. Your mind could’ve just broken from solitary confinement. Or you’re lying. Besides, if there are any gods willing to intercede in world affairs, why didn’t any of them try to stop the Elders from--” 

Schuldig raised an eyebrow at him. 

“You think Loki sent you into that situation to stop their plan.”

“Directly or indirectly. Who knows? For some reason the god of lies and tricks didn’t tell me all the conditions of our deal.”

“Say I believe you. Aren’t you worried about what a trickster god will want when he comes to collect?”

“I’m easily twice as old as I expected to get, with no current indication of physical decline, and I never thought I’d end up in heaven anyway. I’ll face it if or when the time comes.”

“Have you ever mentioned any of this to Crawford?”

“Oh, sure, and he replied, ‘You made a pact with an old Norse god? What a coincidence, so did I.’ No, of course I didn’t. He’d take it worse than you did. I didn’t ever mention it to Farfarello either since if he believed me it would’ve completely broken his already cracked brain and made him useless. You know exactly what I mean.”

Nagi did. If the Catholic version of God Farfarello blamed for all the injustices and pain he’d experienced didn’t actually exist or wasn’t a single all-powerful god, Farfarello might have to take some of the blame himself for the things he’d done. 

“The Marvel movies must have been a great boost to Loki,” Schuldig said. “Far as I know, gods thrive as long as they have people who know of and care about them, even if some of the fine details about them are changed. People have rebooted old stories throughout time to claim them for their own.”

“Not that I believe any of this, but does this deal you made even work that well anymore after what just happened in the movie?”

“Spoilers! Nagi, you know that’s just a movie, right? Fiction. They’re actors.”

“Bite me, you massive troll.”

“You really think that what happened would affect his fans’ devotion _negatively_? You obviously haven’t been on Tumblr. Talk and fix-its abound.” 

“You’re on _Tumblr_?”

“Of course I’m on Tumblr! Twitter and Instagram too. I even have a Pinterest.”

What would Schuldig take photos of and post to the internet? The possible answers to that question disturbed Nagi too much, so instead he asked, “What the hell do you pin?”

“Fashion, musicians I like, things I find funny. Who died and made you the Pinterest police?”

Nagi couldn’t believe this. Once upon a time, he’d gotten a malicious glee in thinking how modern trends in technology wouldn’t suit Schuldig and his telepathy at all, like how people were trusting more information to be remembered by their cellphones and computers than their own brains and how a lot of interaction didn’t take place person-to-person _in_ person anymore. Sure, Schuldig would take to internet trolling immediately, but otherwise? Yet now, Schuldig had to explain internet things to _him_?

Grinning, Schuldig said, “Maybe you _have_ gotten old.”

He remembered Schuldig telling him that telepaths had to shift along with and adjust to the Zeitgeist or suffer. Maybe he should feel fortunate that Schuldig didn’t communicate entirely in memes.

“That’s so sad. Alexa, play ‘Despacito,’” Schuldig murmured, then laughed. “Don’t get too worried. I’m not the biggest fan of a lot of memes, but I don’t believe in refusing any tool of torment that comes my way.”

“Why did Crawford send me after you? You’re obviously not bored and declining; you look better than I do.”

“Maybe it was for you instead of me. We heard about Mamoru,” Schuldig replied too casually.

Nagi felt like his heart had painfully turned to ice inside his chest, and it shouldn’t be this difficult to breathe. “Why do you two know about that? Why do you even care?”

“You were adjacent to my brain for years, so you’re a part of me. I even check up on Farfarello sometimes.”

“I’m fine. Mamoru and I hadn’t been together for years anyway.” He should just get over it already.

“Emotions don’t care about what makes sense. You’re looking rundown too, so you’re probably overworking and not taking care of yourself very well. Maybe it’s not so much that I look really young, it’s that you’re looking older than you should. Brad worries about you but can’t handle squishy feelings well so he sent you to me. Plus, manipulating grieving people is one of the few things Kritiker does well. You deserve better.”

“What could you possibly do for me?”

“Tell me what would help you and I’ll consider it. I’m even willing to relocate.”

“Just like that.”

“Sure. Things have gotten a little _too_ easy here so I’d appreciate something more challenging and a change of scenery.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need or want any help.”

After a moment of looking thoughtful, Schuldig said, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Giving up that quickly and easily?

“If you don’t want it, I won’t put myself through a lot of trouble to force myself on you.” 

“Just like that?” Did he feel disappointed?

“It’s not like we live and work together anymore. I don’t have to see and watch you all the time these days. But why are you putting so much of your life and effort into working for these unappreciative assholes? Did Mamoru on his deathbed make you promise to protect Kritiker or something? Like ‘Continue our proud heritage of manipulating and trapping grieving teens and young adults who want revenge into becoming our hired killers.’ That wouldn’t inspire me to do squat but you’re more sentimental than I am.” 

“Here you are looking like you’re in your twenties, but then you refer to twenty-somethings as ‘young adults’ and give yourself away.”

“Fuck you, precious.” He smirked though. “I’m trying to be helpful. Anyway, I look younger than _you_ do.”

Unfortunately, that was true. “Mamoru didn’t make me promise anything.”

“Good. Maybe he did care about you as much as he should have. His dumpster fire of a family has a bigger death toll than I do, and Kritiker is their creation. Their ledger is _dripping_ with red. If you want to do something worthwhile as Mamoru’s legacy, kill Grandpa Takatori. That bastard has lived so long that I’m wondering if he did some kind of deal like our Elders did.”

Nagi had never liked that hateful, obstructing, old fossil, but: “Mamoru wouldn’t appreciate me killing him.”

“Mamoru was desperate to be a member of a family, and it ruined his life. He lacked perspective.”

Nagi hated to admit it, but Schuldig had a point. 

“Look, Nagi, I know you’re living in a culture of people who die young of overwork and a lot of Kritiker members are masochists who wallow in any potential suffering that comes their way, but don’t let any of that drag you down. You look like hell and need to take better care of yourself.” 

“Thanks.”

“I’m saying this out of love and concern. Anyway, the last I heard, the idiots in Kritiker are all dying to overthrow you because they see you as an ‘outsider’ so fuck ’em.” 

“How would you--?”

“I told you, I try to keep up with big things happening in your life. Fuck Kritiker. Let the whole thing go down in flames. Do you really want to be the only person putting effort into Kritiker and killing yourself?”

...remembering all the snide looks and comments and the pain of being around them without Mamoru, no, he didn’t. “No, but I want to leave on my own terms.”

“That makes sense. You just have to figure out how to make that happen and then you’re golden. If you want, I can come with you since it’d help you to have someone to watch your back in this situation and if they’re busy disapproving of me _you_ could get away with more, but if you really don’t want it, it’s fine.”

It sounded well thought out and logical. “When did you become a life coach?”

“When _haven’t_ I been one?”

Once Nagi really thought about it and realized what Schuldig meant, he had to laugh. “I don’t think your past ‘clients’ have appreciated you.”

“That’s because people suck. They didn’t even have to pay me for the life coaching!”

“They needed the money to pay for therapists in the aftermath of the life lessons you gave them.”

“Wimps. Though if I do help you, I expect some pay. Not much, I’d give you a discount, but something. I have a code I live by.”

“Of course. You’re a mercenary and a professional. Why, is your current employer a problem about these things?”

“He feels he shouldn’t have to pay us a lot because we should feel some loyalty to him. I _know_.”

“That’s _embarrassing_. Does he give you any benefits like health care or paid holidays? Does he have Taco Tuesdays for you guys?”

Laughing, Schuldig replied, “Damn it, now I’m gonna want my employers to give me Taco Tuesdays. Somehow, it’s not on offer in Switzerland. Nah, he doesn’t offer any of that, but he still expects things. Narcissism blinds people. But _you_ get me.”

“Then why have you stayed?”

“...I have _fans_.” Schuldig’s smile looked almost... shy.

It bent Nagi’s brain. “But otherwise you could just leave?”

“Not quite. Even though I told him in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t do much more than two months with him and that I have my eye on the door, my boss would probably answer my declaration that I’m quitting with whining and complaining and possibly siccing his goons on me, but fuck him, nobody owns me.” Schuldig grinned. “Let him try. None of them know how much I’ve been holding back.”

“Or you could just telepathically edit their memories and slip away quietly, possibly with more pay.”

“No. If he tries to attack me, I want him and his minions to _know_ what a mistake he made. The thought of getting to mess with Kritiker again makes me want to warm up here. You know, if it turns out to be necessary.”

“Are you gonna make it necessary?”

“Maybe.” Schuldig looked so gleeful. “Kritiker, on your dime. Heh. It’s been a while since someone paid me to fuck people’s minds over, and I miss it.”

“Being with Crawford has given you some weird kinks.”

“I told him that a lot.”

Nagi had a sudden dark thought. “Not that I’m saying I believe your story about Loki--”

“Of course.”

“--but what happens if you stay young while Crawford keeps aging? What would you do?”

From the slightly haunted look Schuldig took on for a moment, he’d thought about that. “That would be a particularly nasty trick to play on me, wouldn’t it?” he answered with a false, brittle lightness. “But let’s not worry about the far future’s problems today. You know, I’m wondering if maybe you’re thinking too small for yourself, being the leader of Kritiker or a bunch of assassins, though I know it’s what you’ve seen throughout your life. You’ve been using your talent like a sword or hammer, but you can also be a scalpel or possibly a philosopher’s stone. Just because a lot of people only respect brute force doesn’t mean brute force is always the right or only way.”

“What’s your suggestion?”

“Maybe something in science or technology. You’d probably know better than I would if you thought about it. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a killer, if that’s what you enjoy. _I_ do. Or, you know, just have some fun with it for a while. You’ve earned a break.”

“Is this your advice as the avatar of the god of lies and mischief?”

“No, as a friend and colleague, but okay, judge this statement: I can tell only lies.” Schuldig then waited for him to get it.

If he only told lies... but that statement was the truth.... “I _hate_ you.”

“If I only lied constantly, people would either stop listening to my advice or do what seems to be the opposite of what I said.” 

“I hate that I see what you mean.”

“They’re just my vague ideas but give them some thought, now or after we make everyone in Kritiker cry or want to dash their brains out.” 

“Despite the world being a trash fire, with ‘troll’ being an aspirational thing these days, and despite your understandable urge to torture everyone in Kritiker--”

“It would be my _pleasure_.”

“--you somehow seem kinder and softer.”

Schuldig suddenly went very still. “Nagi, don’t insult me.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Maybe. Maybe it’s that I don’t have to constantly show my bonafides as a dangerous sadist to Eszett so they won’t put me down as ‘weak’ anymore. Maybe it’s that I feel more secure in myself and don’t need to be such an edgelord all the time to show what a badass I am. Maybe it’s ‘been there, done that, got the T-shirt and it’s falling apart from how ancient it is.’”

“I don’t know.”

“Or maybe it’s that, with the world the way it currently is, I’m at least slightly high all the time.”

“That sounds more likely.”

“But, Nagi, don’t get too comfortable.” Schuldig’s evil smile managed to be dark and bright simultaneously as he briefly took down his shielding and let Nagi feel the full pressure of his telepathy and malevolence. Just a reminder. Schuldig could turn people inside out with his mind in his own manner, and he’d much rather do that than wear a tasteful business suit and cut and tame his hair.

Nagi _knew_ that Schuldig could modulate how he came off to people and that he fooled them a lot of the time, playing a concerned friend of a friend, an ignorant tourist, a super-loyal underling, or whatever would get him in close to operate... and make his inevitable betrayal hurt more. But Schuldig most often did that to the rubes, not his teammates. At least he used to. But he’d just told Nagi why he felt he needed to be unpredictable, hadn’t he?

As a fighter and telepath, Schuldig seemed to be at a youthful physical and psychic prime while having the training, experience, control, and body memory of someone much older, which made him very dangerous... and an example of what the Elders had been trying for. 

“I haven’t stopped respecting or fearing you,” Nagi said.

“Then we won’t have a problem.”

But then Nagi thought about what Crawford did for Schuldig, how Crawford seemed to be slowing with age, and how Schuldig had said Nagi seemed a bit Crawfordish.... “I’m not going to become your new Crawford.”

“Someone thinks highly of himself. You couldn’t even be the old Crawford.” Before Nagi could really get offended, Schuldig continued, “You’re the once, current, and future Naoe Nagi. People aren’t that easy to replace.” Then Schuldig grinned. “That’s what makes each death really count.”

“I was wrong. You’re totally still a sadistic troll.”

“Thanks for noticing!”

“Do you want to break up with your employer now or later?”

“Now. Immediately!”

Was it weak of him to want the distraction and company Schuldig offered him, this shot of vibrant color and energy into his gray life? Was it a sign of him regressing himself to his Schwarz days as a child? Maybe. But he’d been “self-sufficient” and “strong” for years, and they’d just brought him here, to misery and this moment. In an attempt to be self-sufficient and strong, he and Mamoru had kept each other at a bit of a distance even when they’d been in a relationship together, a waste. If Schuldig hadn’t made such a solid argument for telling Kritiker to go fuck itself, Nagi might’ve stayed with them and kept his nose to the grindstone in the hope that he could force everything to work out--and could make them see his value--through sustained hard work, stuck in his rut and not seeing any other options. Mamoru had tried that for years and failed, and _he’d_ been an heir of their founding family. Although it hadn’t been a Kritiker operative who’d pulled the trigger on the gun that killed Mamoru, in many ways it had been Kritiker that had murdered him. They’d already spent years killing his soul.

If anyone deserved to have a self-proclaimed agent of a trickster god dropped into their laps, it was Kritiker. The very thought had Nagi feeling gleefully malicious... and younger.

Although Schuldig would never be someone Nagi should trust unreservedly, Nagi knew that and knew Schuldig’s value. At the very least, it would keep him on his toes, help keep him _sharp_.

As much fun as Schuldig might have had fighting at a normal’s speed for a normal audience and gaining fans, it wasn’t what he was really meant to do. Nagi hadn’t been doing what _he_ was meant to do either. 

Putting his phone down, Schuldig said, “Yeah, my boss didn’t take it well, so I’ll probably have to kick a lot of his employees’ asses and possibly his too before we leave. I can do it myself, don’t worry, but would you like to join me?”

“Actually, yes.”

 

### END


End file.
